


Inspiration

by Daxolotl



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Gen, POV First Person, Pre-Relationship, Trans Female Character, Trans G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Trans Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29801868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxolotl/pseuds/Daxolotl
Summary: When I was a boy, many long years agoOr, G'raha comes out to the Warrior of Light.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia/original
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sappho_irl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sappho_irl/gifts).



This is it.

I take a few moments to ready myself for the conversation ahead, fingers curling in on themselves at my sides, before I reach out to knock at my inspiration's door.

In truth, I've been readying myself for this conversation for a lot longer than a few moments. When was it, that I felt the first inklings? Syrcus Tower? The World of Darkness? Or perhaps when I was awoken into that light-flooded future and told of her deeds? Told of all she was accomplished. Told of who she became, long after she was my own hero. Long before she was again.

The door cracks open, and there she is. She looks confused for a moment, then her lips part as she recognises me. She smiles, wide and happy, and leans against the door frame as it swings open.

"Well now," she says, in that low tone of hers, "it isn't often that I get house calls from a Scion."

Immediately, I'm flooded with self-conscious embarrassment. My hands tangle together in front of me, awkward, and I avert my gaze from her pleased grin. "My apologies. I wasn't quite sure as to the proper etiquette of these things, but I felt this couldn't wait. I can leave, if you would rather I--"

"G'raha." The interruption is far too fond, and I feel my treacherous ears perk up at the name being uttered. "Come in. Let me make you some tea."

She sidles away from the door and out of view, and I take another few seconds to catch my breath before stepping into the hero of light and dark's inner sanctum. Her _house._ The way I hear tell of it, she describes the battle to obtain this building as being more of a challenge than the defeat of actual gods.

She insists she had to beat a lalafell back with a shield. I'm never quite sure if she's joking or not.

I make certain to close the door behind me, and scuff my new adventuring boots against the mat which is caked in all manner of different muds and sands. It's only after I've made certain to be a thoughtful guest that I allow myself to look at the rest of the room. 

The house seems nice, if not exactly lived-in. Esoteric trophies line the walls and floor. Creations of Omega and of Alexander; a scale of Shinryu alongside a half-dozen weapons I don't think I've ever seen her use and which I'm fairly sure were formed from the defeat of one Primal or another. Most are covered in a delicate film of dust, the clear evidence of a woman who is only rarely able to return home and _never_ has the energy to tidy up in amongst it all.

I can't help but lift an askew halberd as I pass, settling it in its proper place before wandering down the stairs in pursuit of a wayward adventurer.

If the upstairs was a reliquary of forgotten artefacts, the basement is a glorified apartment. My theory about her never getting home is immediately abandoned. There she is, a kettle propped on the stove, humming to herself as she picks through racks of dried tea. The lighting is warm, and the whole space seems to have been designed to be as cozy as possible. Shelves and cupboards are drawn in closer than they need to be, all to give the illusion of a space smaller than it really is.

"You know," I can't help but say, lips curling into a smile, "most people tend to buy houses to have _more_ space to live in than an apartment would offer, rather than less."

The Warrior of Light laughs, turning to face me and leaning against the stove. All confident assurance, even now. "And so I did! My old apartment had barely enough room for me to sleep, between all of the objects I'd found on my travels. And do you want to know the worst thing about the Omega Monitor? It _buzzes._ I couldn't live like that!"

"Did you not consider a storage space? A warehouse, or some such?" I ask good-naturedly, her words putting me more at-ease than I expected to be. She has a way of doing that.

"I don't trust half of these objects to be left out of my sight," she says, eyes narrowing as if she genuinely thinks that the fragments of Titan she possesses might reforge themselves into a primal were she to leave them be.

I laugh at that and nod, conceding the point. I'm not sure if I'd trust pieces of gods left to their own devices, either. Nor would I really want to fill out the paperwork involved with storing them in a warehouse.

She gestures me closer, and I reluctantly step through the doorway into the kitchen area proper rather than hovering. And instead start hovering near to the table, trying not to look as awkward as I feel.

She levels a flat look in my direction, crossing her arms and indicating the table and chairs that just barely fit within the centre of the kitchen. "Sit down, G'raha." Despite the severity of her look, the way she says it is fond and warm. An invitation, not a demand.

Does she go out of her way to say my name so much?

Does she go out of her way to say my name so _softly?_

Whether she does or not, I find myself obeying, pulling the chair out with nary a squeak or scrape across the floor before sitting down and trying not to look as awkward as I feel while seated rather than while standing up. This really hasn't helped with the awkwardness.

The kettle begins whistling, temporarily halting any desire I might feel to fill this time with small talk, and she pours water into an old, worn teapot.

The pot and two cups are placed down at the table, and she takes her seat next to me. I do my best not to blush at the proximity, averting my eyes instead.

"So," she begins. "You said this couldn't wait, but it was also something that allowed you to join me for tea. It's safe for me to assume there are no primals rising up as we speak?"

Her question shakes me from my embarrassment, and I nod. "You have the right of it. 'Tis nothing of any concern to the Warrior of Light."

"A personal matter, then?"

Another nod.

She smiles gently. "Well then. Take all the time you need. I have enough tea for a small army, and nowhere to be all day barring any sudden calls to action. And if I have one of those, you'll be sure to know about it yourself."

My laugh feels a little forced, and I can feel myself tensing up already. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here. What was I thinking? 'Tis plain to see I'm deluded, and she'll see right through me to that truth no matter how I approach this conversation. There's no way that she'll-

"G'raha."

My name again. Said in that same way, again. She knows _exactly_ what she's doing and damn her if it isn't effective. I feel the tension lessen, and I take a breath.

"Take a moment to breathe and relax. And know that naught you tell me will make me think anything less than the world of you."

I look down at my hands, splayed on the table. And, when it becomes clear that I'm still not going to speak my own mind, she reaches over to interlink her fingers with my own. She's always been a woman whose actions speak louder than words, and this one fair takes my breath away.

"Please?"

That, I decide, is absolutely unfair. I feel that I am being played like a round of Triple Triad - All Open, Sudden Death, Roulette, and this metaphor is getting somewhat away from me.

And so, I have no choice but to do as she asks. I breathe. I settle into my chair. I try my hardest to relax, letting my eyes drift shut and listening to the faint noises of her kitchen. The rattling of the kettle on the stove, the sound of her chair creaking ever so slightly as she settles.

Seconds drift into minutes - minutes which she allows to pass in silence, simply holding my hand. Finally, she rouses me from my reverie by releasing my fingers. My eyes open, and I watch her lift the teapot and pour tea into the two cups. She stirs honey into mine, letting the dark gold-brown liquid swirl and spin as she lifts the silver spoon delicately to tap it against the rim of the cup.

When did she learn how I take my tea?

I lift it gratefully regardless, taking a slow sip of the too-hot liquid. It grounds me in the moment, the mellow flavours of whatever blend she picked for us blending with the sweetness of the honey and settling me back in the here and now.

She takes a slow drink from her own cup, making no indication of the heat or any discomfort. The Warrior of Light truly is made of sturdier stuff.

"I..." I begin, and she quirks an eyebrow expectantly.

_Gods, why is this so difficult?_

(I know, in truth, why it is, but that doesn't make me feel better about my apparent inability to muster even simple sentences.)

"Do you remember, what it was that I called you on the First?"

"You called me a great many things on the First," she says, wryly. "I'm afraid you'll have to be slightly more specific."

I sigh. Damn it. "I called you..." A dry swallow, and I take another sip of my tea to whet my throat. "I called you my inspiration."

Her lips part in a little _o_ of realisation, and she nods, a warm smile gracing her once she understands.

I place my tea cup down with a small clatter, and I fidget with my sleeves for a moment. I know, once I start speaking, that I won't be able to stop. That this is my last chance to back out. 

My last chance to run.

I don't run. Instead, I start to speak.

"When I first met you, many long years ago...I saw how tall you stood. Though perhaps _stand tall_ is not the right phrase. I saw...how _proud_ you were of the woman you are. T'was not pride in any conceited way; not pride in your skill with blade or magic or anything else. It was pride in your identity - in _who_ you are, rather than what you could do.

"Your every deed and every word seemed to say it. _Here I am._ You refused to be shamed or demeaned. And...more than your deeds, or your adventures, or your skill at arms, I sought to emulate that. 'Tis true, I sought to follow the example of your deeds and your heroics, but...behind it all was this feeling that if only I could accept myself in the way that you did, that I would be...happy.

"Then, of course, came my rude awakening. The discovery of a Calamity, and of your own demise. Of your life passing into distant memory and myth. And every time I heard the tales of your heroism, I felt this...ache, in my chest. Duller than loss or grief, lying far beneath those emotions. Something inexplicable. You inspired me towards whatever heroism I may lay claim to, it's true...but there was something deeper.

"That ache grew sharper during my time on the First. As those around me grew to know me only as the Crystal Exarch. As my body was slowly claimed by the tower. It..."

I trail off, rubbing my wrist with the phantom pains of crystal growing and cracking. Reassuring myself with the feeling of soft skin and warmth, not immovable crystal.

"It was a strange feeling. Losing my name hurt - to know that perhaps none would call me by the name I knew to be true to myself again. That perhaps I would never reach that happiness you had, for there was no pride in being called Exarch. In wearing a hood to cover my face from view. But losing my body...

"You would think that would have hurt more. Would have been felt more sharply. That I would have felt deeply uncomfortable with my own flesh transforming before my eyes. But...it didn't. I didn't. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that perhaps...I had never been comfortable at all. That perhaps the reason why being turned to crystal phased me so little was that my skin had always been that of a stranger."

There's a soft gasp from across the table, and I look up to see my Warrior staring at me. Her eyes are shining, and she clutches her teacup so tightly that I fear it might shatter in her grip.

"I called you my inspiration," I say, working to keep my voice level. "And I realised, that first time you said my name as I readied myself to die, that it was not your deeds or your skill that had so inspired me many long years ago.

"It was that you stood tall as yourself. As... as the _woman_ who has saved entire worlds."

My companion makes a shocked gasping noice, raising her hand to her mouth and staring at me with wide eyes. They flicker, seemingly taking in every detail of my face, of my clothes; of the way I've been allowing my hair to grow out these past moons. "Raha, are you saying..."

I look down again, biting my lip and trying to hold back the thrill I feel at her calling me _Raha_. 

And, slowly, I nod. 

"G'raha Tia, at your service." I lift my head and try to give her my best cocky grin, despite the fear running through me. "Student of Baldesion, Scion of the Seventh Dawn...and one of many women inspired by the example you set."

There is silence for a few long moments after my final confession. After that admission from which there is no returning.

I'm expecting one of several reactions from the Warrior of Light. I'm fearing several others - uncharacteristic displays of rage or ridicule. I know in my heart that those are unlikely, but that does not help to dissipate the fear.

What I'm not expecting is for her to shove teapot, cups, strainer and honey halfway across the table to one side and for her to practically pounce across the gap to wrap me in a hug.

I make some sort of startled screeching noise as the momentum and the combined weight sends my chair careening backwards, knocking us both on to the floor.

Despite that rather painful landing, she managed to cradle my head from the impact, and she has attached herself to me and seems in no rush to be extricated.

"Um...could I perhaps..."

She pulls back from the hug to smile down at me, wide and bright. "Oh, G'raha. I'm so _proud_ of you!"

That stuns me into silence.

"I know full well how frightening it can be, to admit this to yourself. Let alone to someone else. I know that it took immense courage for you to come here today, and to tell me these things. And all I can say, all I can do to reassure you, is to tell you how _happy_ I am that you have found yourself.

"The world is a vibrant and beautiful place, full of so many vibrant and beautiful things. And you, Raha...are a vibrant and beautiful girl."

!!!!

I make a shocked little noise in my throat, feeling the blush on my cheeks and the way my ears perk up at the way she says that.

_a beautiful girl_

If I hadn't been certain of my identity before now then hearing her say that, and feeling the joy and euphoria that bursts through me at her words, confirms it beyond the shadow of any doubt.

"I won't lie and say that this journey will be easy all the time," she says to me, finally climbing from me with an apologetic grin. "There will be hardships. But what I can tell you is that...being yourself? Being the woman you truly are, and being affirmed by those you care about? It makes every hardship worth it. Every moment of strain fades into nothing compared to it."

She holds out her hand to help me to my feet, and I take it without hesitation.

Our eyes meet, and I freeze in place.

We're so close together. I watch the way her eyes flicker across my face, taking in every detail; the way they seem to linger on my mouth. I swallow, hard, and try not to think about the way that her fingertips seem to be stroking over my wrist so intimately. I fail, miserably, and I doubt I'll be able to think of anything else for the next week.

She breaks the moment by leaning in to press the softest of kisses to my cheek.

My lips part in surprise at the gesture and I blush again, hard enough that I feel like I'm warming the room up by several degrees.

"Ah..." She glances over her shoulder to the tea set, cups knocked over and tea spilled across the table. "...would you like another cup of tea?"

And just like that, the tension is broken. 

I laugh, grateful for the offer, and offer a happy nod.

"I'd like nothing more, my friend."

**Author's Note:**

> Trans girl G'raha is a headcanon near and dear to my heart. I love the idea, I love her, and I wanted to write a story dedicated to that idea and to her coming out to the person who helped her to realise who she is. Her inspiration. I decided to make it a gift fic because I know sappho_irl is arguably even fonder of the headcanon than I am. :P
> 
> As a side note, this WoL isn't specifically based on any WoL and I tried to be vague about her. She is a trans woman, but beyond that detail I tried to keep details open and vague but then she kind of grew a personality all of her own. Her clutter, her love of enclosed spaces, her talent in the kitchen and her collection of tea. She's not based on my WoL, but whoever she is, I've grown inexplicably fond of her in the course of writing this.
> 
> ((and, as serious housekeeping, which I've never done before but feel like I might need to here - if you leave a comment, please don't misgender this version of G'raha. Regardless of your own headcanons or your own readings on the character, just...don't be a dick, basically?))


End file.
